


moment of weakness

by turnabout (dagon)



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, extended ending, trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 16:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2394716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dagon/pseuds/turnabout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trip and Virus are maybe not as empty inside as they would like to think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	moment of weakness

Virus' skin went icy at Trip's touch. It was a touch he was unfamiliar with, but the tenderness was undeniable. Goosebumps washed over his bare back and he nearly choked on a sharp intake of air. His head turned to look at Trip and his gaze was met with solemn pale blue eyes. Trip's expression was subtle but the difference made him look like a complete stranger. Virus' breath hitched again, his own expression like that of someone pricked by a needle. Only a moment had passed before Virus' brain processed this bizarre behaviour. His gaze shot back to Aoba, panic flashing behind his eyes. Aoba's presence had intensified, his focus was directed at Trip. A memory of Aoba in his teens popped up in Virus' mind.

"No!" Virus lunged at their captive's face, hands out and ready to smother.

But it was too late.

_He_ had noticed too.

Yellow eyes flashed and a single word was spoken.

"...destroy..."

Virus held his hands over Aoba's mouth and nose, pressing their head violently into the bed. Aoba's voice had barely been a hoarse whisper, so maybe, just maybe...

The two bodies around him had gone limp. The larger man had collapsed over Virus' back and slid off. Virus could feel his heart thumping against the inside of his ribcage. He noticed he had been holding his breath. The air being sucked in through his nose seemed deafeningly loud. He slowly let go of Aoba's face - the intensity now gone from it - and carefully flipped himself over to look at Trip.  
Trip was lying face down into the bedding, not moving.

  
The blow to the back of the head sent dark spots through Virus' vision. The second one knocked him down face first and into Trip's body, the world now spinning. His arms reflexively went up around his head and he managed a quick glance before the next blow. Aoba's face was contorted with a sick smile, his gaunt features giving him a ghastly look. Where was this strength coming from? He was half starved and his muscles atrophied from being restrained. Virus grabbed onto Aoba's foot with the next kick, yanking him half beneath him in an attempt to pin him down, but the other foot came smashing down, heel into the bridge of his nose and glasses. Virus heard the crunch of cartilage and warmth flow down his face. The next assault hit squarely on his temple and the world blacked out.

 

* * *

  
Trip was dropped off at a hospital. He had remained unconscious since Scrap – a couple months passed with no changes, and no visitors. Money would be sent regularly for the bills, but the staff weren't even sure whom to contact if anything did happen.

 

* * *

  
Virus was so proud of Aoba. This was the old Aoba they had been so taken with in the beginning. How cool to bear all that and still act so quickly, so decisively in the exact moment of weakness shown. They had never truly broken him. They could always find him again. There was still so much to see.

 

* * *

  
Trip had finally opened his eyes. His consciousness would still fade in and out. Sometimes he could understand what the nurses and doctors were telling him. Other times he would be pulled back into his own mind. It was difficult to focus on the real world. Was that himself standing over him? Isn't it a sign that you'll die soon if you see your own doppelganger? “...no, that's not me...” He didn't wear glasses.

 

* * *

  
Virus took a seat in a chair next to the bed. He leaned over and watched Trip sleep. His elbow rested on the arm of the chair, and his chin on his hand.

  
“Hurry and wake up. We have work to do.”

  
Trip only breathed shallow breaths, in, out, in, out.

  
“No one else will appreciate Aoba like we will... he's even better than before, you know?”

  
Virus watched Trip breathe. He felt uncomfortable, or perhaps unsettled. Something had changed. He wasn't sure what it was... maybe he was affected by Scrap that time too? He sat and watched in silence. Something in the pit of his stomach was surging. Making it a bit harder to breathe. Making his brow furrow just a little, but all the time.

  
“Trip...”

  
Was it possible? That a seed of anguish had taken root in him? Was this something other people felt?

  
“Mmm...” Trip's eyes fluttered and stayed half open. They were struggling to focus.  
Virus paused, then slowly reached out and rested his hand over Trip's. Fingers twitched slightly in response.  
Trip blinked heavily a few times, then turned his head toward the other. He stared at Virus for awhile.

  
“Sorry...” His voice was even drier than Aoba's was. Trip swallowed and took a deep breath in and out. “What happened to your face?” A smirk slowly emerged.

  
“You should see your hair.” Virus spoke in a light tone, but his eyes were harsh.  
Trip turned his hand palm up and grasped Virus'. The grip tightened in return.

  
“Virus...

 why are you crying...?”

**Author's Note:**

> Rough sketch idea for a doujinshi that never ended up getting drawn.


End file.
